I drove the Scout in to work today. I had a big smile on my face.
Leave it to the smarter folks in the world to show me how shortsighted I can be. Scanning over Kottke this morning I found he had posted a very good question: Why not have Sherlock, the Help Guide, and all the other HTML-based applications integrated into Safari? A very good point, and as someone who hates multiple open windows clogging the screen all the time, I wish I had thought of the question myself.
Obsessive-Compulsive dept. With each break that I take, I’m going through iTunes and cleaning up all the metadata for each song file in the catalog. Amazon’s computers must think I’m the cheapest, most schizophrenic surfer imaginable, because I query their database to fill in the blanks I don’t know for each song. I do know this: when that iPod comes, I’m going to be ready for it.
The dash light is telling me something. There are a total of four gauges on the Scout besides the speedometer. Two of them spend a total of about ten minutes a month actually lit and working— the other 432,190 minutes they remain dark, hiding just how rapidly the engine is inhaling gasoline. Which is probably a good thing. Now, I don’t drive the Scout all the time, mostly because of the mileage issues, but when I do turn the key on the mornings I drive her to work, she fires up reliably each time. I have noticed a phenomena in the last few months which lead me to believe she’s telling me something. This evening I pulled out of the parking lot at work and leaned off to the left to see how much gas I had by the weak light from the streetlamps. Somewhere between gassing up and merging onto the beltway, I looked down and noticed that the lights were back on. This is not the first time it’s happened, and I think it’s my truck’s way of asking me to not give up on her.
The ‘Joe Millionaire’ guy from TV so needs to get punched in the face. Repeatedly.
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scout, catonsville, 11.12
To the guy in the Accord who crossed four lanes of traffic into my blind spot, almost crashed into me, and then flipped me the bird: I’m driving a Scout, you ignorant doorknob. That’s over a ton of Ohio steel, moving at high velocity and with great momentum. My truck would make little flat pieces of tin out of that crap you’re driving. You’re lucky I saw you at the last minute.
I signed up for the new Macromedia content-management product, Contribute. I have no idea how this thing works, or what it could mean for several different clients of mine, but I’m going to test out the Win version of it perhaps tomorrow. Details to follow.
Because of phone snafus, I have to wait until tomorrow to find out what the cost of the sewer problems might be. Although I have a solid “oh shit” fund in the bank, I’m afraid this is going to seriously damage my plans to do a lot of things in the near future. In the meantime, I’m showering at Jen’s house and trying not to worry too much.
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When I was a fifth-grader in New Jersey, I lived in a big postwar development where all the houses were close, but not too close together. The streets were lined in a grid and well lit; you could always find your way back home by counting back down to fifth street, where I lived. On Halloween, my mother let me and my friend Brad wander the whole neighborhood by ourselves until the homeowners got tired and put the almost-empty bowl on the porch with a “take one” sign. For a kid who grew up pretty close to home (not by choice) this was a night of pure freedom—we ranged out as far as we could imagine, almost all the way up to the Krauzer’s at the far end of the neighborhood (which was considered a Voyage To The End Of The Universe during the summertime.) We avoided gangs of bigger kids looking to terrorize us smaller ones by jumping into bushes or falling quietly into groups of larger kids. Brad’s older brother Todd had warned us that he and his friends would be out looking for us with shaving cream and eggs. We walked the first few blocks in constant neck-jerking fear, but soon succumbed to the pleasures of free candy and no parental supervision, filling our pillowcases and itching at our costumes, and the night seemed to last forever.
I just read that Jam Master Jay was shot and killed in Queens last night. Everybody wave your Adidas in the air.
I also got an email the other day from our friend Paul, who has been quietly reminding me how bad the trucks I lust after are bad for the environment and for the other drivers on the road. Paul, I’m working on a reply—hang tight.
Jen and I went to the AIGA Baltimore’s Pulp, Ink & Hops show last night, where they get you drunk and give you lots of paper samples. This year we departed from SOP and picked up only a few samples while drinking the same amount. It was good to catch up with a bunch of people we haven’t seen since, well, the last PI&H show.
And what must be one of the most absurd things I’ve read in a long time, the Boy Scouts are gonna kick this guy out unless he renounces his atheism. You know what I say about the Boy Scouts? The hell with them. I don’t think religion, or lack thereof, should have anything to do with whether or not you’re a Boy Scout. Whatever happened to common sense? Seems to me they should give out a merit badge for that, too. Tell me what you think.
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Currently, the Taurus is in the shop for various ailments; among other things, the idle is either racing or DOA with about a second of reaction time in the middle. The coolant system is on its fourth hemorrhage now, after a new radiator, set of hoses, thermostat and gallons of antifreeze. The Saturn is acting up as well—Jen called via cellphone this morning to have me on standby for a search and rescue mission. Today I started the Scout and had it three quarters of the way down Fleet Street when it decided to stall. Luckily I had some forward momentum and was able to point it towards the corner of the curb, but horsing a ton and a half of iron to the side of the road when the power steering pump has shut down is a bit like trying to make a left turn in a commuter train- it just ain’t happening. Once I had her warmed up to 100% she was fine, but it seems that none of the vehicles in the Dugan-Lockard Collective like this rainy weather one bit.
OK, this is kind of cool, and brought to you by the Mormons. The 1880 US Census data is now online; you can research ancestors based on a number of different criteria such as birth and death records, country and state, and their relatives. I looked up my namesake, William Dugan the First, and found a number of different records matching the criteria. I have to check with the Third and find out where and when the First was born, and perhaps I can provide some data to the family. (via megnut)
From Wired.com: Still Rabble-Rousing, a story about Daniel Ellsberg, the man who leaked the Pentagon Papers in the 1970’s.
There is a significant interest, after a meeting yesterday, in moving the 3-D development at work away from Discreet’s 3Dsmax to Alias/Wavefront’s Maya. As a recent learner of 3Dsmax, I have to say that I was impressed with Maya and excited to use the software. As a longtime Mac user and supporter, I definitely have to vote in favor of Maya, because there’s an OSX version that looks good. Keep your fingers crossed.
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Use this for your enjoyment the next time you get one of those annoying phone calls just as you’re about to take the first bite of dinner.
With the exception of a section 3′ by 7′ wide, I bought, cut and installed all the decking in the backyard. Before I can screw it in place, I have to spec out the lighting and run the cabling; then it should be a straightforward installation of all the planks. We’re almost there!
Knocking around my brain: Land Rovers. If I can’t find a decent Scout in this area, maybe I can find a Land Rover Series II in decent shape somewhere. The purchase is way off in the distance (much as I’ve given up on another Scout this year) but it’s good to educate oneself , especially with foreign-made trucks.
I found this article on the Baltimore Business Journal about the web design industry in Baltimore; I thought it was interesting from a developer’s perspective. I was interested (but not surprised) to hear that a few of the other interactive shops in town had closed down besides GR8.
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My Scout is a funny collection of quirks, oddities, safety hazards, and well-designed parts all moving together in a strange harmony. Generally, the gas/oil gauge remains dark when I turn the lights on; the bulbs work, but there’s a funky connection in the 24-year-old wiring. As of a month ago, the right turn signal would light but not blink, although the relay for the hazards blinked all four turn lights. I drove it yesterday, after it sat idle in front of the house for two weeks, and coming home last night the heat blew steady and warm, all the dash lights were on, and both turn signals lit and blinked. I know it misses me, and wishes I would stop the rust that’s eating away at the door pillars, and it broke my heart to know that I can’t find anyone in the are who will take the job on. I love that truck.
I have a guy coming out on Friday morning to look at and estimate on how much it will cost to tear out and replace my front door and transom window, a job I’ve been waiting to do for the five years I’ve been in the house. I can’t tell you how much I want to do this.
I found this article written by Joe Galloway about his experience in Vietnam, after watching We Were Soldiers. Interesting to hear the story from his perspective, and it’s interesting to know that some of the reality made it into the movie.
Tonight in the backyard I got the rest of the step supports built, and I put another vertical post in under the stair platform. I wasn’t able to get the stairs started because I bought 2×10’s instead of 2×12’s, but I marked out the pattern on the 2×10 to verify, and all looks good. So tomorrow afternoon it’s back to the store for more lumber, and I’ll begin cutting each stair riser when I get home. After that section is done, I can finish the framework and then start laying the planking down. I will post photos when there’s a little more to see.
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scout, padonia road, 10.21
After the last three days, I am beat. I got certified to scuba dive on Sunday, after spending a total of about five hours in a Pennsylvania quarry attempting to stay warm. We did a bunch of different skills, and finished off the day on Sunday with an eight-minute trip down the quarry wall at fifteen feet and back. It is another world down there, beautiful, mysterious, and exciting, and I hope I can dive somewhere with better visibility and more exotic marine life.
I also got four supports for the step built Sunday afternoon, in a last gasp of energy. The backyard is coming together slowly—I can see the end nearing slowly. A week of good honest work out there and I think I can get a lot of it completed.
The leaves are falling on my street. The trees planted on either side tend to drop about a month before the rest of the state, and every year it makes me a little sad in advance. Our little block looks much cheerier when the leaves are still green.
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Sunset over the Archie Bunker backyard, 9.10
Tonight Matt rolls into town from San Francisco. I probably won’t get to see him tonight, but tomorrow some other friends have organized a party and I’ll see some folks that have been AWOL for a year or so. I’m really happy to get together with some of the old crew and I’ll be sure to take a lot of pictures for everyone.
OS X looks real nice, but I can’t install it on a remote FireWire drive, and I don’t have the star-head screwdriver here to switch out my drives. So it will have to wait for sometime in the next couple of days.
I like when good things infiltrate mass media. This made me smile. It was a good episode, too.
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Getting a bunch of stuff done this morning, and feeling like I’m on top of things, for once. Jen paid off her car today, so there will be celebrations! I was also very proud of her for speaking up for herself in her salary negotiations yesterday, even if it did take her bosses by surprise. She took a big step (and showed a lot of stones) for herself. Let’s cross our fingers for her.
Update: Not as good as we had hoped, but not disastrous. Stay tuned.
I got a nice email back from the Scout lady yesterday, and zipped up a set of pictures for her to post in her ad. I declined to put a price on her rig, but told her what I paid for Chewbacca and how complete he was at that time. Hopefully she can use that for her estimation. I also talked to another guy with a crazy-lifted ’72 that he did a ‘frame-off resto’ on. He has a blue-on-white paint job, a new wiring job, fiberglas inner fenders, new floorboards and he painted the frame aqua. I have seen the pictures, and yes, he did.
Props to Errol for bringing in the Spider-Man DVD today; no, it’s not the movie, but a compendium of the 80’s cartoon, I guess, and the real gem: the Origin of Spider-Man episode from the 1967 cartoon TV show. You know it- the theme song goes like this:
Spider-Man
Spider-Man
Does anything a spider can
Can he swing?Listen bud
He’s got radioactive blood
Look out
Look out for Spider Man.
I have had the theme running through my head all day. It makes me smile.
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“The more I look at it, the more I don’t like it”, Erick said, when he described the Scout to me. I have to agree with him. I’ve seen much, much worse, but this is not the truck I want. The body mounts are bad, the second paint job is sloppy, all four quarters need replacement, and the rockers are totally shot. I didn’t get to talk directly to Erick about it, but I took a bunch of pictures and I’m going to send them to the lady today. We’re going to sit this one out.
Nate turned me on to a really good album, one that gives me a glimmer of hope for modern music: And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, Source Codes and Tags. Rock and roll. I can’t remember the last time I heard some contemporary music that I actually gave a crap about.
Speaking of music, the Trouser Press is online, with a pile of reviews of bands that I actually give a shit about. Some I don’t agree with, and some I laugh at, and some make me remember days gone by, when I liked 70% of the music I heard out there.
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